


New York Morning

by LondonGypsy



Category: Agent Pendergast Series - Douglas Preston & Lincoln Child
Genre: Attraction, Doubt, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Realization, Relationship Negotiation, Romance, Sexual Confusion, Sexual Tension, coming to terms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-10 21:52:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4409189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LondonGypsy/pseuds/LondonGypsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An undercover operation. <br/>Jealousy. Confusion. Confrontation. <br/>A kiss. <br/>Negotiations, and a quiet bedroom at the Dakota.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New York Morning

**Author's Note:**

> As always all the love for my darlin beta [SuperWhoLockGypsy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SuperWhoLockGypsy/profile) ! Even though it's not her fandom!! Thank you Honey.  
> All remaining mistakes are mine.  
> (borrowing from the books: no copyright infringement intended!)

Vincent D'Agosta tugged uncomfortably on the sleeves of the stiff tuxedo, trying to stay out of the pelting rain that has been enveloping New York City for weeks.

Finally the heavy door opened and he slipped inside, nodding at Proctor in passing.

He walked swiftly towards the library and the fire, shivering after the cold outside, and he rubbed his hands to thaw them.

"Good evening, Vincent."

Turning towards the low voice, D'Agosta could barely suppress the surprised 'oh' that wanted to slip past his lips.

Aloysius Pendergast had entered the room, casually adjusting the bowtie around his neck.

D'Agosta had seen him in many disguises but tonight's was extraordinary. He was used to him in his customary black suits but the perfectly tailored tuxedo fit him like a glove. His white-blond hair was swept back, setting off the sharp angles of his aristocratic face. A pair of black rimmed glasses sat low on his nose, giving him the air of a scientist.

D'Agosta had thought he himself looked good in his borrowed tux, but compared to the elegant Pendergast he felt the feeble confidence rush out the window. For the special agent it wasn't a disguise at all, it was just who he was, and D'Agosta's shoulders slumped in defeat.

"You're looking good, Vincent," Pendergast said, his cool gaze sliding approvingly over D'Agosta, who only snorted but didn't say anything.

"Apart from one thing perhaps," Pendergast added, his eyes narrowing as they fell on the sloppily tied bow tie around D'Agosta's neck.

He cringed. It had taken him half an hour fighting with the slippery item, and in the end he had given up, wrapping it around his neck like a ribbon.  

"Yeah well," he said roughly, "not everyone had the education like you."

He sounded defensive, much more than he had intended, and he bit his lip. Pendergast only smiled easily and walked over, stopping in front of him.

"May I?" he asked and before D'Agosta could say anything, Pendergast reached out, tugging the tie loose.

"It's actually quite easy," he said casually, "one only has to know how."

His slender fingers brushed over D'Agosta's skin as he carefully folded the silky material into the right shape.

D'Agosta could feel his cheeks reddening - he felt like a child being scolded.

But he didn't move, his eyes wandering over Pendergast's face. That close he could see the small lines around his eyes, the fine wrinkles on his forehead, the unusually long lashes. And once again he suppressed the thought of what a handsome man the agent was. The glasses suited him, enhancing the sharp cheekbones and drew attention to the unusual blue of his eyes.

"There," Pendergast said, "that's better."

"Thanks." D'Agosta took a step back, making some space between them.

He could feel his face flush and he turned away, ignoring the fluttering in his stomach.

Pendergast didn't seem to notice; he quickly ran through the plans for their semi-official operation, obviously blind to D'Agosta's troubled feelings.

*

Half an hour later they arrived at the huge party downtown. Pendergast had given him instructions, and D'Agosta stayed close to him to get a feeling for the clientele. After a while he was able to relax, and he wandered off, admiring the luscious decoration and the overflowing buffet.

Something about the entire party was off though but he couldn't lay his finger on it. It took him three more turns around the room, two glasses of champagne and almost running into the suspect to figure it out.

"This is a _gay_ party," he hissed as Pendergast appeared out of nowhere by his side only a moment later.

"Why yes, I thought that was fairly obvious," was the lazy reply.

D'Agosta turned to face the agent, irritation clearly audible in his voice.

"It was not obvious to me," he grunted, suddenly overly aware of the mostly male crowd around them. "You could have warned me," he added, nervously draining his glass.

"Does it bother you?" Pendergast asked coolly, and for a second something dark flickered over his face.

D'Agosta frowned.

"Why yes, a bit. You could've told me," he replied, the faint yet instant sense of having said the wrong thing briefly crossing his mind.

Pendergast's icy gaze levelled in on him, observing him, and then a half smile flickered over his lips, not reaching his eyes.

"I apologize for the misleading, Vincent. I feared you would object had I told you."

"Damn right," D'Agosta muttered under his breath, scowling out at the packed dance-floor. Seeing all those men sway to the slow tunes, filled him with unease. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Pendergast's shoulders stiffen. But as he turned towards him again, it was gone again. Pendergast elegantly took two glasses from a passing waiter, handing one to D'Agosta.

"My dear Vincent, I'd never thought you to have homophobic tendencies."

D'Agosta sneered at him but took the glass and drained it in one gulp.

"I'm a Catholic Italian, what the heck do you think?"

It was his standard phrase, and usually nobody questioned it but tonight it didn't feel right. Especially as Pendergast's blue gaze darkened for a split second. Again, it was gone in a heartbeat, and he tilted his head.

" _I_ ," and he put some emphasis on the word, "have always thought that you were much more than meets the eye," he said, sipping delicately at his own drink.

D'Agosta looked at him, baffled at the cryptic answer.

"What's that supposed to mean?" D'Agosta's voice rose indignantly but the agent only smiled a frustratingly enigmatic smile at him and then vanished into the crowd.

Grumbling D'Agosta remembered the actual reason for being here: he set the glass down and started patrolling the room. Soon he had located the suspect, standing at the bar. D'Agosta cast a glance around to let Pendergast know but of course he was nowhere to be seen.

"Typical," D'Agosta mumbled, reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. Then he froze. Pendergast was strolling towards the bar, his blond hair shimmering in the low lights like a beacon.

Motionless, D'Agosta watched as he leaned against the counter, ordering a drink. He then turned towards the suspect, making some kind of remark. They were too far away for D'Agosta to hear them but he saw the delighted smile on the man's face.

He watched in awe how Pendergast ordered another drink and handed it to their man, his demeanor having changed drastically. D'Agosta had never seen him like this: coy smile, running a hand through his hair, his body language completely different from what D'Agosta knew.

They quickly seemed to get lost in conversation, not noticing anything around them.

And slowly it dawned to D'Agosta that Pendergast was flirting with the man. Aggressively. And it seemed to work: the suspect stood a bit straighter, leaning closer to the other man, laughing loudly.

D'Agosta watched them with narrowed eyes.

"I'd be jealous, too," a soft voice sounded next to him, and he almost jumped in surprise.

"What?"

The woman next to him didn't look at him as she motioned towards the bar with a perfectly manicured hand, sighing somewhat wistfully.

"Him," she said gently, and D'Agosta's eyes strayed towards the bar again.

Pendergast and the suspect were standing much closer now, deeply immersed in conversation, fingers brushing not so accidentally over one another's arms and hands.

D'Agosta grit his teeth as Pendergast threw his head back, laughing heartily, the tendons on his pale neck standing out sharply.

"If he was mine, I'd never leave his side," the woman mused, "he's drop dead gorgeous."

D'Agosta swallowed a rude answer, breathing through his nose, glancing at her.

She was petite with long dark waves, falling gently around her face, a pair of intelligent green eyes shimmering in the low lights. She was beautiful in a subdued way, the type way above D'Agosta's class.

"He's not ' _mine_ '," he eventually replied harshly.

She raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him, and then she slowly reached out and took his hand: it was clenched so tightly the knuckles were white. It took quite a bit for D'Agosta to relax his fingers and reveal four perfectly halfmoon imprints in his palm.

"Not yours, you say? Are you sure about that?" she asked quietly and ran a finger gently over the numb marks.

D'Agosta opened his mouth to protest but nothing came out. He stared at his hand, rattled.

"We're just-"

He snapped his mouth shut - he couldn't possibly tell her the truth. Pendergast had instructed him to not reveal their motives. Under no circumstances.

"-friends," he eventually finished lamely, but even in his own ears it sounded like a lie.

The woman watched him closely, and then slowly shook her head, letting go of his hand.

"Does _he_ know that? He doesn't look at you as a friend," she said, staring into his eyes now.

"What?" he croaked, eyes instinctively going towards the bar again. His heart was suddenly racing in his chest, and his palms were sweaty. "What do you mean?" he asked but there was no reply.

He turned his head towards the empty space next to him. She was gone, vanished into the crowd, only the scent of her expensive perfume still lingering in the air.

Shaking his head, he tried to make sense of this strange conversation. His insides were in turmoil, contradicting thoughts rushing through his mind.

Anger at the audacity of the woman, and also at Pendergast for dragging him along more or less unprepared, as always keeping crucial information to himself.

Irritation and confusion. Annoyance.

But as he tried to sort through all this, there was that tiny persistent voice in the back of his head, whispering and nagging.

He felt doubt. At himself, his entire worldview, and worst, he wondered if that woman was right. Was he jealous?

Taking a deep breath - still watching Pendergast who was leaning close to the suspect now, whispering in his ear - he mentally stepped back, trying to look at it in a detached and logical way.

Pendergast hadn't told him that this was a gay party because he didn't want to... what exactly? Scare him?

He snorted; the agent should know him better by now. It was true that he wasn't entirely comfortable in his skin, knowing that most men around him were homosexual. He just couldn't help it: he was born and raised strictly catholic, it was imprinted in his genes.

But Pendergast also knew that D'Agosta didn't shy away from a hairy task, would do anything to get the job done. Hadn't he proven that time and time again? He ate a freaking rat for the man!

Pendergast had only told him that it was a high class party with lots of wealthy people. D'Agosta had stuck to Pendergast's side for most of the night simply because the agent knew his way around in such a crowd.

Frowning D'Agosta recalled the evening, images flashing overly clearly through his mind:

Pendergast's hand on his arm, keeping him close or alerting him to movements of their suspect.

Pendergast's slender fingers in the small of his back, steering him securely through the room, a warm and oddly reassuring weight.

Pendergast's honeyed melodious voice in his ears, murmuring introductions and observations.

Another thought occurred to him and he squared his shoulders, inhaling sharply.

Had it been intentional? Had Pendergast _wanted_ everyone - including the suspect - to think they were together?  Had he tried to draw the man out, get his attention?

D'Agosta's mind was racing now, turning thoughts over and over, trying to understand.

It would make sense. It had definitely worked with that woman; she must have seen them earlier and had come to that conclusion.

The target was a major suspect in a series of gruesome murders all over the East Coast, which had left the police baffled. But of course that had drawn Pendergast to the case - and before D'Agosta knew he was smack in the middle of it, not able to deny the agent his help.

Pendergast had quickly realized that the victims were mostly homosexual men; and soon he had narrowed down the circles in which the suspect was socializing - the rich and famous, which was probably one reason nobody actually dared to investigate full force.

D'Agosta knew all that, even though he had conveniently ignored the gay factor of the case.

Now it slammed back into his brain and a simmering suspicion welled up - Pendergast had been putting them both on display, imitating the documented behavior of the victims - showing off as a homosexual couple, not shy to show affection in public.

_He had used them as bait!_

Anger took over, and the longer he watched Pendergast getting cosy with the man, the more furious he got. Straightening his back, he stalked over to the bar.

"Ah, Vincent, there you are," Pendergast drawled lazily as he saw him advance. His cheeks were flushed, his tie askew and his accent thicker than usual, a clear sign that he had indulged in the champagne.

Without sparing a glance for the suspect who eyed them both curiously, he grabbed Pendergast's arm and dragged him away. The agent followed willingly, and for a second D'Agosta thought he saw a smirk on his lips.

He pushed through the crowd until he reached a door leading into a quiet corridor. Kicking the door shut with his foot, he cornered the agent against it.

His blood was boiling by now, and he stared furiously into Pendergast's face.

"Did you use me as bait?" he spat between gritted teeth, not bothering to control the annoyance in his words.

Pendergast leaned against the heavy door, not the least intimidated by D'Agosta's outburst. A tiny smile danced in his eyes, made the skin crinkle around the corners.

"I knew you'd eventually get there, Vincent, bravo," he said calmly, inclining his head.

His collected demeanor set something in D'Agosta on fire and he leaned closer, angry breaths stirring the fine hairs at Pendergast's hairline.

"Are you freaking insane?" D'Agosta hissed, "are you trying to get us killed?"

Pendergast chuckled lowly, a carefree sound that chased a shiver down D'Agosta's spine.

" _Au contraire_ , my dear Vincent. I was counting on your jealousy to get me out of the man's-"

"What jealousy?" D'Agosta growled, fury surging hot through his veins.

Pendergast cocked his head, his slanted eyes cool and very blue behind the glasses.

"The jealousy you're currently displaying perfectly. I could not have hoped for a better result," he said, the smirk growing.

Something in D'Agosta snapped, and he slammed his fist into the paneling next to Pendergast's head, leaving a dent in the wood.

The agent's eyes widened surprised and he turned his head, looking at it curiously.

"Ah," was all he said, his gaze slowly returning to D'Agosta who was breathing heavily, desperately trying to regain control.

"Yes, ' _ah_ '," he grunted, taking a step back, absently inspecting his bruised knuckles, "be glad that wasn't your face."

Pendergast's eyebrows almost vanished in his hairline before he burst into delighted laughter. It wasn't loud but it shot an electric jolt through D'Agosta. He glared, his pulse racing; he could feel the blood rushing loudly in his ears.

"What's so fucking funny?" he wanted to know, the barely subsided anger bubbling up again.

Pendergast leaned heavily against the door, laughter slowly merging into a soft chuckle, the mirth making his eyes sparkle like blue diamonds.

"My dear Vincent," he wheezed, "that would have never happened."

"What makes you think that?" D'Agosta snarled, hands curling into fists.

"Because I'm faster and more agile than you. I'm sorry, but that's a fact."

D'Agosta stared at him, instantly shifting into fight mode.

"Oh yeah?" he asked, muscles tensing.

"Yes."

And before D'Agosta could make a move, large hands closed around his wrists; he was spun around and shoved hard against the door, Pendergast's face only inches from his.

"You were saying?" he all but purred, tightening his grip around D'Agosta's wrists, pinned above his head. He was defenseless, helpless; Pendergast's fingers were digging like claws into his flesh.

D'Agosta stared at him; he was so close he could see flecks of gold in the man's eyes. He felt his breath ghosting over his face. He was overly aware of his long fingers on his bare skin, over his pulse which had skyrocketed during their little fight.

Their bodies were mere inches away; one deep breath and their chests would touch.  

Something stirred in his groin, and with utter shock he realized that he was getting hard in his pants.

He inhaled sharply, searching Pendergast's eyes to see if the man had noticed. He was met with huge pupils, the blue only a small ring around utter blackness. The air suddenly felt electric, sizzling with tension, ready to explode any second.

And then Pendergast sighed deeply, uttered an inaudible curse and leaned in, brushing his mouth against D'Agosta's.

He froze instantly, breath catching in his throat.

Pendergast's lips were warm and hesitant, moving ever so slowly over D'Agosta's. The feeling of it, of being kissed by the other man rendered him motionless. The anger dissipated, making room for a latent desire he didn't even know was there.

It had been ages since he'd been with anyone, and apparently his mind decided that Pendergast's kiss was very acceptable.

More than acceptable because his body arched against the hard form of the other man, pressing against his lips, a needy moan slipping past.

Pendergast gasped and pulled back, wide eyes dark and questioning, roaming over D'Agosta's face. Another undignified noise reached his ears, and it took him a while to realize it came from his own throat.

He faintly noticed the strong hold on his wrists loosen, and without thinking he slipped his arms around Pendergast's lithe body, pulling him close. He desperately needed to touch but more importantly, he needed to feel those lips on his again. More than anything.

"Vincent...?" Pendergast's voice was hoarse, his accent thick and the word - his name - sounded like a prayer.

D'Agosta moaned, hands scrambling for a hold on the agent's narrow shoulders, feeling the muscles shifting under his touch. Any coherent thinking was shut down by the overwhelming _need_ rushing through his veins.

"Please," he murmured, not exactly knowing what he pleaded for, but Pendergast seemed to understand. He shifted, and then his hands were in D'Agosta's hair, stroking the nape of his neck. It shot a delicious sensation through D'Agosta's nerves and he keened, desperately trying to get closer, to get what his entire body was yearning for.

There was a soothing hum, a gentle caress and, _finally, thank God,_ soft lips lowered on his again, sliding precariously over his. The touch ignited a searing fire, burning away the few remaining thoughts that this was wrong.

Nothing that felt so good, so _right_ , could be wrong.

Pendergast's fingers slid over his neck to the side of his face, cupping his jaw and angling it, all the while his lips moved leisurely over D'Agosta's, sucking and nibbling gently. It drove him positively mad.

Eventually he couldn't take it any longer and opened his mouth. Immediately Pendergast's tongue slipped inside, curling around his.

D'Agosta's knees buckled at the feeling and he clung helplessly to the other man, groaning quietly against his mouth.

Pendergast pushed him back against the door and steadied him against the heavy wood as he deepened the kiss. He thoroughly explored his mouth, a dark hum vibrating through his slender frame.

They lost track of time in the kiss, nothing mattered but the other man, his hands, his lips, the quiet sounds mingling in the stale air.

Eventually they had to break apart, both gasping for breath.

"That was... unexpected," Pendergast murmured, nipping on D'Agosta's lower lip, making him growl at the sharp, unmistakable want that touch sent through him.

"Says the man who always anticipates the unexpectable," D'Agosta's replied roughly, a grin blooming on his face.

Pendergast huffed a laugh.

"You, my friend, are truly unpredictable," he said, running a hand over D'Agosta's cheek. Leaning into the touch, he relished the warmth, the tickling sensation on his heated skin. He could see a similar flush on Pendergast's normally pale features, and it filled him with an odd pride.

He did that.

Turning his face into the man's palm, he flicked his tongue over his skin; it was salty and intoxicating.

Pendergast's cat eyes narrowed further and he bit his lips, gaze glued to D'Agosta's mouth. He swallowed hard and then stepped back, letting go of him, and D'Agosta instantly felt cold.

"Not now," Pendergast murmured, straightening his tuxedo, adjusting his bowtie.

But D'Agosta heard the barely concealed longing in his tone.

"Later then?" he asked slyly, smoothing over his own suit, letting his fingertips linger a bit too long over his chest.

Pendergast made a choked off noise.

"As you would say: 'you can bet your ass on that'," he growled. "But first we have a suspect to arrest."

He slipped back into his cool and calculated persona that D'Agosta was taken aback for a moment.

"He got a bit too friendly earlier," Pendergast said as he opened the door again, scanning the room for the man, "and he slipped on a few things, gave away information only the murderer could know. He is our man."

He had located him and swiftly walked over. The suspect smiled widely at him but it quickly died away as Pendergast motioned at D'Agosta.

"Captain, if you be so kind and arrest the man," he said casually to D'Agosta who struggled to keep up with the radical change of events. A sharp glare from Pendergast did the trick and moments later the man was in cuffs, back-up was called and they led the suspect out of the room under the stares of the entire guests.

*

Twenty minutes later, the suspect was in custody; D'Agosta and Pendergast watched as he was driven off to the precinct. The man had been taken by such surprise that he had instantly confessed, and Pendergast was radiating the content satisfaction of a case successfully closed.

He leaned against a large pillar on the steps of the house, looking on as the police car vanished around the corner. Once it was gone, he straightened up and his eyes instantly found D'Agosta's. They darkened noticeably. D'Agosta swallowed hard but didn't move as Pendergast tilted his head.  

"Care to continue what we started?" he asked in a low purr which made every single hair on D'Agosta's body stand on end. He blushed and looked away, a hot panic rendering him speechless.

Now that the adrenaline had left his body, he was wondering what had come over him earlier. Did he really want this? He'd always considered himself straight, had never actually felt anything for other men; the thought alone had always been forbidden territory.

However, if he was honest with himself, Pendergast had always stirred something deep inside him, something he had crushed with force, hadn't allowed himself to think about. But now it was out in the open, hovering in the air like a miasma, waiting to be addressed.

Frowning he sneaked a glance at the other man, who was waiting patiently for an answer.

"Why?" he eventually managed to ask, ignoring his racing pulse.

Pendergast straightened, a half smile dancing over his lips as he took of the glasses, putting them in his pocket.

"Because I'm attracted to you," he said bluntly. Seeing D'Agosta's frown deepen, he sighed.

"Tonight's assignment had two purposes," he said, a faint impatience in his tone, "the first was fairly obvious. The second one, well, I might have pursued a more personal goal."

He fell silent, letting D'Agosta process the words. When he didn't get a reaction, he pushed away from where he was standing, and he closed the distance between them, coming to stand right in front of D'Agosta who stared at him uncomprehending.

"And you're attracted to me, Vincent," he said, "you just don't want to see it. I was hoping tonight's, er, conditions might open your eyes."

He fell silent, dark blue eyes attentively sliding over D'Agosta who involuntarily shivered under the scrutinizing gaze.

"I want you, Vincent," Pendergast said quietly, and it sounded like a mere statement, cool and void of emotions but D'Agosta saw the fire burning in the man's eyes.

"But why," D'Agosta whispered helplessly. He didn't understand, he wasn't that attractive, a bit pudgy, a bit clumsy, and definitely not as clever as the agent. He just couldn't see why someone like Pendergast could even be attracted to someone like him.

"Oh Vincent," the agent sighed, "it's not only the bodily attraction, can't you see that? We - how is it called - ' _clicked_ ' right away, do you remember? You and I, we complement each other. You helped me more often than you know with you unfailing sense of humanity. We're a good team, and it seems only logical to take this a step further, don't you think?"

"So it's a _logical_ choice?" D'Agosta asked ironically, feeling somewhat offended.

Pendergast shook his head, reaching out to take D'Agosta's hand in his.

"No. While a liaison with you might have its professional perks, it's not the main reason. I..." his voice trailed off and an unfamiliar expression darted over his face.

"Yes?" D'Agosta asked intrigued, unconsciously tightening his fingers around Pendergast's. He watched enthralled as two rosy spots bloomed on the agent's cheeks.

"I had hoped," he eventually said, not looking at D'Agosta, "to redeem some of the failures I made in the emotional area."

His voice was so quiet that D'Agosta had to lean in to hear him.

And suddenly he understood and a warm feeling spread in his chest, making his heart stutter.

Deep down inside it had hurt that he would be a logical choice. Observing the agent's face now, he could see that it was just a poor choice of words.

Pendergast had lost his wife - and to some extent, Lady Maskalene - due to his line of work. D'Agosta knew that he had felt deeply for them both, no matter what he made everyone else believe. He had kept his heart safe, hid it behind his somewhat cold appearance.

D'Agosta's breath stuttered as he gathered the full meaning of it all.  

He himself was a police officer, he had proven that he was more than capable of looking after himself, of getting out of even the hairiest situations on his own. Pursuing a relationship with him - a veteran cop - would minimize the chances of losing him too.

Hence the ' _logical_ ': they could keep each other's back, on the job _and_ in private.  

Pendergast had been watching him the whole time and as their eyes met, he nodded.

"Yes, Vincent. Having you closer in any way will make me sleep easier," he murmured, stepping closer, his fingers squeezing D'Agosta's hand reassuringly, "I have tried to ignore those growing feelings towards you because I feared you might not reciprocate, but watching you closely these past months gave me the feeling that there is more than friendship between us."

D'Agosta stared at the man, trying to process the way the evening had been progressing.

Pendergast had stepped closer, his words whispered into the small space separating them. "You _are_ amenable, are you not? That catholic upbringing of yours notwithstanding? The evidence is rather obvious, don't you think?"

Despite his detached tone, D'Agosta was aware of the magnitude of this moment - the agent had laid himself bare, made himself vulnerable on the small chance that he had read the signs correctly.

D'Agosta took in his tall figure, elegant and untouchable in his tuxedo. He had always thought him far removed from everything emotionally, even though he'd seen him crumble once or twice. Suddenly a wild desire flared up, nothing sexual, but rather a fierce wish to _protect_ him, like Pendergast had protected him over and over again.  

He let his mind wander, didn't restrict himself for the first time in decades. He observed his own reaction to the notion of not being with the agent, and it filled him with a cold, hollow feeling. Then he speculated about going home with him right now, undressing him slowly, touching another man in ways he only ever had dared to fantasize about in the darkest nights.

His heart sped up, his stomach flipped and his breath hitched.

Yes, he could imagine getting intimate with him; and only him. Thinking about other men didn't do anything to him. Only Pendergast.

Exhaling loudly he pushed every other thought away and searched Pendergast's eyes. He had walked a bit away, leaving D'Agosta the moment he had needed.

Now he could read the question clearly in his face, and he nodded slowly. A peaceful warmth soared through him as he saw the flash of relief on the other man's face. He inclined his head, hid his face in the shadows but D'Agosta had seen the quick smile.

"Excellent. Shall we discuss further... negotiations at my apartment?" Pendergast asked.

"Only discuss?" D'Agosta asked boldly, raising an ironic eyebrow. A simmering anticipation made its way through his body, erased every last doubt he might have had.

Pendergast laughed lowly, walking down the stairs to the Rolls Royce which was idling at the curb.

"Whatever you are willing to _discuss_ ," he said over his shoulder, sliding easily into the backseat.

D'Agosta followed slowly, overly aware that every step brought him further into unknown territory - a territory he was more than willing to explore.

*

The short ride back was quiet, a not unpleasant tension filling the back of the luxurious car. Every now and then D'Agosta glanced over at Pendergast, whose face didn't betray anything. A slight nervousness filled D'Agosta's stomach but he tried to ignore it.

He had time to think, and had come to the same conclusion Pendergast had made earlier: he was indeed attracted to the man, had been since their first meeting and yet he had ignored it. Now that it was out in the open though he couldn't think of anything else.

He was torn out of his musings as they arrived at the Dakota.

"Good night Sir," Proctor said as both men exited the car, and D'Agosta imagined seeing a brief flicker of understanding on his usually stoic face.

He ignored it in favor of hurrying after Pendergast, who strode through the lobby, pressing the elevator button rather hard.

Wordlessly they arrived at the correct floor. As they entered the small room leading to the vast apartment, Pendergast turned, one hand on the concealed door.

His face was solemn as he watched D'Agosta closely, only a slight tremble in his voice spoke of what was happening under that cool surface.

"You can still change your mind, Vincent," he said, "turn around and walk out. I won't hold it against you."

D'Agosta regarded him just as closely. Then he slowly shook his head and smiled hesitantly.

"Not happening," he replied, closing the carefully kept space between them, resting slightly trembling hands on Pendergast's shoulder, "I've made my decision."

The words hung between them heavy and meaningful before D'Agoste felt the tension leave Pendergast's body: his shoulders relaxed and he could hear a tiny sigh of relief.

And then it was easy to lean in and kiss the other man - mouths fitting perfectly together, tongues tangling, breaths mingling.

D'Agosta broke away as he felt his blood rushing south.

"Lead on," he rasped, and Pendergast didn't need another incentive. He opened the door and vanished into the dim hallway, D'Agosta closely behind.

Only moments later they entered the rather small bedroom, and despite the arousal coursing through D'Agosta's blood, he had a quick look around.

Dark blue wallpaper, a small desk in front of one of the four full-length windows looking out onto Central Park, framed by heavy curtains. A door, standing slightly ajar, lead into what seemed to be a walk-in closet, another into the adjoined bathroom. But it was the large bed that captured his eyes and drew his attention: king size, of course, with intricate carvings in the headboard; the covers thick and cozy.

A small sound had him look up: Pendergast stood in the middle of the room, watching him attentively. D'Agosta thought he saw a brief expression of doubt on his face, and was at his side in a heartbeat. Without hesitation he leaned in and kissed him, wanting desperately to erase the uncertainty on his handsome features.

Now that he had allowed himself to - _finally_ \- admit, and accept, the suppressed emotions towards the agent, he hated to see the apprehensive notion.

"No cold feet," D'Agosta whispered against Pendergast's lips. He was rewarded with a quiet sigh and warm hands running over his back, pulling him closer.

They kept kissing for a long time, getting used to it, exploring each other mouths, learning what made the other one moan and squirm.

D'Agosta's blood was singeing, and he felt the tell-tale twitching in his pants.

Breaking the kiss, he leaned back to search Pendergast's eyes, which were huge and black, and he was breathing heavily.

"Shall we take this to bed?," Pendergast asked hoarsely, his cheeks flushed.

"I thought you'd never ask," D'Agosta said, winking and chuckling as the blush on Pendergast's face deepened.

Kissing him again, D'Agosta slipped his hands between their bodies, opening buttons and pushing the suit jacket off Pendergast's shoulders. It rustled loudly as it fell to the floor.

Looking deep into his stormy eyes, D'Agosta started to work on the buttons of his white shirt, never once breaking eye contact. Pendergast didn't make a move to reciprocate, his breathing shallow as D'Agosta finished, and the shirt went the same way as the jacket.

He let his hands slide over Pendergast's chest, fingertips tingling as they wandered over subtle yet hard muscles now quivering under his touch.

Silvery marks littered his marble-like skin and D'Agosta squinted at them in the low lights. He drew a sharp breath as he realized that they were scars - healed exceptionally well and almost invisible to the eye yet a harsh reminder that he knew very little about Pendergast's past.

He exhaled shakily; a deep sorrow filled him, and he bent down, kissing a particular crude looking spot just below the collarbone.

Pendergast made a choked off noise that rattled D'Agosta to the bone.

"I'm sorry," he whispered against the pale skin.

"What for? They were not your fault," was the hushed reply.

"Some of them are," D'Agosta said quietly, searching Pendergast's eyes again.

To his surprise he saw a smile curling the corners of the man's mouth.

"They brought us together," he murmured.

Something sharp and hot and aching unfurled in D'Agosta's stomach; he pulled Pendergast close and kissed him fervently, leaving them both breathless as they broke apart again.

Pendergast used the moment to quickly unbutton D'Agosta's shirt, his fingertips ghosting over his chest before they started to work his belt.

D'Agosta snickered as nimble fingers brushed over his highly sensitive stomach, and Pendergast raised an elegant eyebrow at him as he pushed down his pants a bit.

"Ticklish?" he asked curiously, running a finger over his side again which caused D'Agosta to squirm away, giggling now.

"No. Yes. Stop that," he wheezed, trying to get away from those clever fingers poking and prodding him, unfailingly finding the spots that tickled the most.

Pendergast chuckled lowly, his eyes twinkling mischievously as he backed D'Agosta up against the bed, pushing him down on it, pants around his knees effectively trapping him.

He went down with a thud and suddenly the playful atmosphere shifted, and they both stopped laughing immediately.

Pendergast's gaze traveled over D'Agosta's exposed chest down to the unmistakable bulge in his dark briefs. Even their short interlude hadn't abated his erection, and he felt it twitch under the heated stare of the agent.

"Come here you," D'Agosta growled, reaching out and pulling Pendergast on top of him, hissing as their naked flesh touched. Their mouths found one another, the kisses getting harder and needier with every second.

Fumbling with Pendergast's fidgety belt, D'Agosta eventually managed to open it and he pawed at the expensive pants, trying to get them out of the way. Pendergast rolled off him, shoving them down before he pressed against D'Agosta again, kissing him passionately.

They were still in their underwear, only two thin layers separating them; D'Agosta could feel Pendergast's erection hot against his leg, and he instinctively moved against it.

Pendergast's unabashed moan startled him a bit: it was loud, needy and shot another spike of uncontrolled lust through him.

"Wait," Pendergast breathed against his lips. He struggled to sit up and reached for the nightstand.

D'Agosta's eyebrows rose as he pulled out a bottle of lube, setting it carefully on the polished wood. Pendergast caught his surprised expression as he turned towards him again, his own eyebrow mirroring D'Agosta's.

"I _do_ have needs too," he said in way of explanation, and D'Agosta nodded mutely. Unbidden images shot through his mind of Pendergast in bed, naked, pleasuring himself, and he groaned lowly, the thought incredibly arousing.

Pendergast's lips twitched amused as he watched him with narrowed eyes.

"It's all yours," he drawled teasingly, his southern accent thick as molasses.

With a needy moan D'Agosta launched himself at the other man, devouring his mouth, his hands all over pale skin, the need to touch surprisingly violent. He squeaked surprised as Pendergast flipped them over easily so D'Agosta was on his back, Pendergast straddling his hips, his hands pressing hard over D'Agosta's chest.

His eyes were dark, his breath quick as he moved his palms over D'Agosta's nipples, making him arch into the touch.

"What do you want, Vincent?" he asked quietly, and D'Agosta suddenly realized that he hadn't offered anything yet, only responded to what D'Agosta had given him.

"I'm no blushing virgin," he muttered, "you can-"

Pendergast laid a finger on his lips, shaking his head.

"This is new for you, Vincent, I don't want to take anything you're not willing to give." He hesitated but didn't look away. "Yet," he added softly, a somewhat unreadable expression flitting over his face so quickly, D'Agosta wasn't sure he'd even seen it.

And suddenly he understood.

This wasn't a one night only thing; Pendergast was hoping for more. The subdued ache deep in his heart threatened to overwhelm him and he scrambled for a hold on Pendergast, pulling him down so he could kiss him, pouring all his hidden emotions into the kiss.

"Anything you want," he murmured against warm lips, a little shocked by the utter truth in it. He would do anything for the man, he knew that now. He also knew Pendergast would never exploit him or made him do anything he wasn't ready for yet.

Pendergast stilled, his entire body went rigid and he raised his head, looking into D'Agosta's eyes searchingly.

Time seemed to stop, and D'Agosta felt overly exposed under the omniscient gaze but stopped himself from shying away.

"You're an exceptional man," Pendergast eventually whispered, a faint smile making his eyes sparkle.

D'Agosta blushed and returned the smile, hands wandering over Pendergast's thighs, caressing the smooth skin.

"Can we stop talking now?" he asked, voice rough, the feeling of Pendergast's mostly naked body above him driving him slowly crazy.

Nodding, Pendergast shifted slightly, eliciting a groan from D'Agosta as their erections rubbed together, and he arched against the other man. Pendergast's head fell back, and D'Agosta's breath hitched at the sight of his long neck.

He moved his hands over his back and pulled him close then rolled around, pushing Pendergast into the mattress and kneeling on his legs, pinning him. He took his time, watching him, fingers sliding over pale warm skin, getting accustomed to hard muscles and sharp angles, nothing like the soft curves of a woman's body.

Pendergast let him, darkened cat-eyes hooded, yet D'Agosta knew he was following his every move.

"You are gorgeous, you know that?" D'Agosta mused, circling a finger around a pink nipple, delighted at the sharp inhale of breath beneath him. "I'd never thought I'd say that about another man, but God help me, you are."

Pendergast gasped at this but didn't say anything, his long fingers resting on D'Agosta's knees, drawing small circles into his skin. The touch was light yet it stoked the simmering fire in D'Agosta and soon he was panting heavily, his straining erection aching.

"Get these off," he growled, tugging at the waistband of Pendergast's underwear.

"Certainly."

D'Agosta shuffled to give him the room to do so, eyes glued to every inch of revealed skin. He swallowed hard as Pendergast laid back, completely naked now, his white skin almost glowing. His penis jutted out from a nest of dark blond hair, as long and lean as everything on the man, and D'Agosta couldn't help it: he leaned down, licking a long stripe over it.

Pendergast almost jumped, his body shaking heavily, hands curled tightly into the sheets.  

"My dear heavens," he uttered under his breath.

D'Agosta chuckled at that unusual curse. He propped his chin on the agent's hip, one hand sliding teasing over his side.

"One day I'll teach you to cuss properly," he said with a smirk, pressing a kiss against Pendergast's flat stomach.

"Keep doing what you're doing and that day will be here sooner rather than later," he said breathlessly.

"Is that a challenge?" D'Agosta asked playfully, blowing softly over the glistening head of Pendergast's member.

The man shuddered violently, hips involuntarily bucking; D'Agosta laid a hand on his hip to stop him.

"You can certainly try." Despite the formal words, Pendergast's voice was trembling and a fine sheen of perspiration was covering his neck and chest.

"Oh, I will," D'Agosta murmured, starting to kiss along Pendergast's thigh.

Every single hesitation was flying out the window, his nerves were thrumming with need; he wanted this, had maybe wanted this long before he even allowed himself to even think about anything like this. Having Pendergast's naked form beneath him, trusting and wanting, broke down a dam he had erected years ago. The small sighs of pleasure, the inaudible mutterings, the intoxicating scent of their combined arousal, all this washed away any doubt, any indecision he might have had as they had walked into this room.

All he wanted to do now was to take Pendergast apart, reduce him to a quivering mess, blowing that clever logical mind of his.

A smirk flitted over his face at that thought and he bent down, taking hard hot flesh in his mouth.

Pendergast cried out, his hands gripping hard onto the sheets.

Still smiling D'Agosta stilled, tongue trailing over silky skin, tasting bitter fluid. It was a heady sensation, one he'd never had anticipated, never even dreamed of. And yet it felt so utterly right that his head started swimming and he had to close his eyes to refrain from losing it completely.

The choked-off noises Pendergast made went straight to his throbbing penis. He was as hard as he'd never been before, aching in a way he'd never experienced, and he hadn't even been touched.  

Slowly he started moving, relishing the heaviness on his tongue, the musky smell enveloping him and most of all, the incoherent moans falling from Pendergast's lips.

Never stopping, D'Agosta blindly reached out, searching and finding one of the agent's hands, clenched into the sheets. He pushed his fingers in between his, and yelped at the strength as Pendergast grasped his hand, holding on as if his life depended on it.

Pendergast's other hand let go of the sheets and hesitantly lowered on D'Agosta's head, caressing his neck and then coming to rest on top of his head, fingers threading carefully through his hair. He didn't push, didn't hold him down, and it was the most sensual thing he could've done.

Everything got a bit blurry after that. He lost himself in the steady up and down along Pendergast's length. His noises increased in volume, became broken and raspy, and he was thrashing on the bed, muscles jerking uncontrollable.

And then there was a sharp tug on his hair, and he broke away with an obscene sound, finishing him off with a rough hand.

Pendergast's body stiffened, his hips arched high from the bed and he came with a low groan, drawn out and very loud in the quiet of the room.

D'Agosta was mesmerized, forgetting his own burning needs for the moment, watching heavy shudders wrecking Pendergast's lithe body, sweat glistening on his skin. It was an enthralling sight, and D'Agosta didn't give him time to recover - he scrambled up the bed and kissed him fiercely, swallowing his keening moans, licking deep into Pendergast's mouth. He clung to D'Agosta's shoulders, not able to return the onslaught on his mouth but nevertheless trying.

Eventually they had to part, panting heavily. Pendergast's lids fluttered open, revealing almost black eyes, glazed over and staring at D'Agosta, hazy and wondrous. He opened his mouth but nothing came out, his expression so utterly dazzled that it made D'Agosta snicker despite himself.

"I'd never thought I'd do this," he mumbled, waving a weak hand around, "on my first time."

Finally Pendergast found his voice. It was husky, his accent so thick, D'Agosta needed a moment to understand him.

"You're a source of infinite surprises," he rasped, the sound of his words making D'Agosta moan with longing.

Pendergast licked his lips, glanced down their bodies and at D'Agosta's still very hard member.

"Shall I give you a hand with that?," he asked slowly, dropping his voice to a dark whisper that shot through D'Agosta like fire.

"If you don't mind," he replied breathlessly, shifting enough that Pendergast could get his hand between their bodies.

"How could I object," Pendergast murmured, his long and surprisingly cool fingers closing around D'Agosta's hard flesh.

He groaned, biting his lip. It felt heavenly to finally get some friction on his neglected erection and he couldn't help thrusting into the tight hold.

"Oh dear God," he muttered, quickly feeling his own orgasm approaching. He had held back too long, he could feel the tell-tale tingling at the end of his spine.

"Won’t...take...long," he breathed, squeezing his eyes shut to focus on the incredibly sensation of Pendergast's hand around him.

"Pity," the man purred, his lips hovering just over D'Agosta's, "I'd be inclined to draw this out a little."

"Don't you fucking dare," D'Agosta growled, pressing harder into Pendergast's touch.

"Perhaps next time," was the breathy reply.

D'Agosta shivered at the open yearning in his words. And as Pendergast twisted his clever fingers just the right way, he cried out, spilling hot semen over his hand, slicking the relentless motions. He shuddered helplessly through his orgasm, not able to hold back the broken moans tumbling from his lips.

Pendergast stroked him through it, knowing exactly when to stop. He rested his hand on D'Agosta's spent member while he kissed him languidly. Then he took his hand away, nipped a last time on D'Agosta's lips and flopped on his back.

They laid in silence, heavy breathing and stuttering heartbeats slowly returning to normal.

D'Agosta was dozing off; the movement next to him had him blink open heavy lids.

Pendergast had propped his head on his hand, watching him, his hair tousled, his slanted eyes still clouded with pleasure. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something but then shook his head, smiling a bit lopsidedly.

"Penny for your thoughts," D'Agosta muttered, sliding a finger over Pendergast's jaw.

"Nothing actually," he said softly, the smile widening, "just wondering."

D'Agosta rose a questioning eyebrow.

"At what exactly?"

"Whether you would like to stay for breakfast. And if so, whether I even have coffee to offer."

D'Agosta laughed; he couldn't help it, and after a second Pendergast joined him. D'Agosta reached out, pulling him into an embrace, nuzzling his neck, peppering kisses over his face.  

"I can do with tea if I have to," he said, still chuckling, "but in the future we should make sure there's some caffeine in this place."

Pendergast huffed in mock disgust, scrunching his nose in a way D'Agosta couldn't help but found adorable.

"You'll manage," D'Agosta said, suppressing a yawn.

"Get some sleep," Pendergast said, pulling the covers over them, "it was an, well, eventful day."

D'Agosta snorted and snuggled deeper into the thick bedding, lids too heavy to keep them open.

"Good night Vincent."

He felt a featherlight caress on his cheek, and he smiled sleepily.

"'night."

The last thing he heard was the sound of a phone taken up, and Pendergast's honeyed voice, quietly ordering breakfast for two into his room in the morning.

D'Agosta fell asleep with the smile still on his lips.  

*

Grey morning light fell through the window, casting the room in a silver gloom. Everything was quiet, the only sound was the pattering of rain against the thick window pane, blurring the view of Central Park

He leaned against the frame, hands curled around a cup of coffee. Sipping it carefully, he relished the rich taste, feeling the caffeine coursing through his veins.

Everything was a bit blurry around the edges of his vision; he swayed a little as he adjusted his stance, leaning a bit heavier against the oaken wood surrounding the wide window.

A new sound reached his ears, and a hazy smile lingered over his lips.

"That coffee must be outstanding that you leave a warm bed for it."

The words were spoken quietly into the silence, and his smile grew wider at the lazy drawl.

"It is probably the best coffee I've ever had," he replied, taking another sip.

There was more rustling, and then the sound of bare feet on the oaken floor.

"Proctor picked it. I'm glad you approve."

Slender hands slid around his waist from behind, and he leaned back with a sigh.

Silently they stood together, watching the first few rays of a weak winter sun fight through the clouds in the leaden sky.

"Come back to bed, you must be exhausted."

He hummed approvingly yet didn't move, the trancelike state intensifying with every breath he took.

Eventually he drained the cup and set it back in its saucer on the windowsill, turning around to meet attentive blue eyes, watching him closely.

He let his gaze roam over the well-known face with its high cheekbones and the straight nose; lips that looked a bit swollen, and he grinned as he brushed his own over them, eliciting a soft sigh. The usually pale skin was flushed, light hair in disarray, and his heart fluttered as he saw the speculative glint in bright blue eyes.

"Didn't you say something about going back to bed?" he murmured, pulling the slender body hard against his own.

A low chuckle followed, and a deep kiss, while shuffling towards the bed, tumbling in it in a heap of too-long limbs and eager hands.

Outside the sun rose slowly, the clouds dissolved and it promised to become a lovely New York morning.

  
  
  


 

 


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